She typed: “The buck has been passed to a new generation—ours!”

She stared at it on the screen, fiddled with the font color and point size. It occurred to her that as most of her readers were in their twenties and thirties, they would have no idea it was a steal from John F. Kennedy’s 1961 inaugural speech, “The torch has been passed to a new generation.” Even fewer would know that she’d grafted it onto Harry Truman’s famous slogan “The buck stops here.” Whatever. Cassandra was starting to get hits from older readers. And the mainstream media were also starting to take notice. The Washington Post had called CASSANDRA “the bulletin board for angry, intelligent Gen-W’s.” Gen-W being short for “generation whatever.” Even one or two advertisers were starting to come in, feigning interest.

In a moment of weakness, she’d posted a photograph of herself on the home page, thinking it might bring in a few male viewers. It did. A third of the 573 messages were from men who wanted to have sex with her. She was, as Terry had put it, an attractive girl or, to use the word of her generation, “hot”—naturally blond, with liquid, playful eyes and lips that seemed always poised to bestow a kiss, giving her a look of intelligence in contention with sensuality. She had a figure that, when displayed in a bikini or thong at the resort in the Bahamas, would draw sighs from any passing male. All in all, it was not the package you’d expect to find sitting in front of a computer screen at three a.m., wired on over-the-counter speed and railing at the government for—fiscal irresponsibility? Girl, she thought, get a life.

Copyright © 2007 by Christopher Taylor Buckley